


Just a Taste

by Commandant



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cannibalism, Felix is a complete sociopath, Gore, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, just Felix being really gross and dumb in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commandant/pseuds/Commandant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the many things that annoy Locus about working with Felix is that he has the libido of a man half his age. It would be a completely avoidable problem if not for the fact that nothing seems to excite Felix more than ending a man’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Taste

            Locus glances around at the tall grey buildings of the abandoned district they currently stood in before reluctantly turning his gaze back to Felix. “Do you have to do that here?” he asks; tired irritation heavy in his voice.

            Felix is perched on the stomach of the last man he’d killed, strangled him with a sweet smile on his face. He’s extricated his cock from within his body armor and is now stroking himself with a self-satisfied look on his face. “This fucker called me a midget chink and scratched up my armor,” he punctuates the statement with a soft noise as his thumb brushes over the head of his penis. “I’m going to cum on his face.”

            He thinks Felix’s idea of revenge is ridiculous but he doesn’t bother saying so. Instead Locus walks a few meters away to collect Felix’s helmet from where it had fallen. “You should make sure to check the lock on your helmet next time, Felix,” he states plainly.

            Felix groans, and the sound is a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, though Locus knows the annoyance is entirely directed at him, “you are the biggest boner killer ever, you know that?” So he says, but when Locus turns back around he’s greeted by the sight of Felix rocking his hips into his own hand.

            He shakes his head, “you seem to be doing just fine. Hurry up and finish.” They had completed their job today, wiping out the gang that had taken up hiding out within the old buildings in this district, faster than planned. But Locus still doesn’t like lingering after a job was done. It’s sloppy.

            Locus is met with a vulpine grin when he makes the mistake of turning his head in Felix’s direction. Felix purrs, “Why don’t you come help me, if you’re so anxious to go?” He licks his lips in a manner that is probably meant to be enticing but Locus is unmoved.

            “Don’t be disgusting,” he replies instantly, walking back towards the other man nevertheless. Felix is panting heavily at this point; he’ll be done soon anyway. Locus doesn’t need to humor the comment that was half tease and half legitimate offer with an actual response.

            Felix comes with an unnecessarily loud moan and leaves his mark on the dead man’s face. He licks cum off his hand and Locus watches Felix inhale his own scent as if it were a high class perfume. Truly he has never met a man as in love with himself as Felix is, and he doubts he ever will. It’s almost endearing sometimes how unabashed Felix is about it, too. Almost. Not really.

            “Disgusting,” he repeats as Felix looks up at him expectantly. Locus hands him his helmet back as Felix just grins in response.

            “You say that but you always watch me when I do it, Locus,” Felix counters before shifting to zip his body suit back on and puts all his armor back in its proper place.

            Locus doesn’t reply to the pointless jibe, it isn’t as if he hasn’t touched Felix before. He looks down at the SAW in his hands, flipping the safety on before attaching it to the mag strip on the back of his armor. “Are you done?”

            Felix hops to his feet, full of his usual amount of excess energy, “you’ll fuck me when we get back to the hotel room, right?” Ridiculous, he’s like a horny teenager. With his young face and short stature he certainly looks the part. Felix can easily pass for 17 if he wants to, even though he’s at least a decade older. Locus can’t remember exactly how old Felix is and he also doesn’t care.

            “If you behave. Put your helmet back on,” Locus replies. Normally he would tell Felix to satisfy his urges elsewhere, but after bigger jobs like this one, he prefers they lay low until they’re scheduled to leave. And he knows he won’t get Felix to stay put unless he concedes to his petty demands.

            Felix does as he’s told and Locus turns to leave, but before he takes even two steps he’s interrupted by Felix. “Hey Locus, check out that bird,” he points, and Locus glances in the direction to see a large scraggly vulture hunched over a man he had shot in the forehead 20 minutes ago.

            He doesn’t understand why Felix felt it necessary to point the scavenging bird out. “It must have come from the wasteland just beyond the city limits,” Locus observes impassively.

            Felix stares at the bird for several seconds, unnaturally quiet, his face inscrutable under his helmet. He cuts the silence that Locus enjoys so much short, with a laugh. “You’re fucking welcome for the meal, you ugly-ass bird!” he yells before turning on his heel to leave.

 

            Locus isn’t surprised to find Felix still naked on the bed when he emerges from the bathroom after his shower. It’s a usual habit of the other mercenary; Locus supposes it had something to do with his rampant narcissism and love of body art. When he’s feeling generous he’ll give the piercings and tattoos the attention Felix is clearly seeking, but really he finds it all incredibly unnecessary. He doesn’t care enough to say so to Felix; it’s not worth the agitation it would elicit. No, there’s nothing unusual about Felix’s unabashed nudity. What’s odd though, Locus thinks, is the introspective look currently on the younger man’s face. “You seem to be thinking about something, Felix. I’m honestly shocked,” Locus comments dryly as he sits down on the bed next to him.

            There is a slight pause before Felix replies, “I’m going to gut you in your sleep.” It’s an idle threat, Felix’s standard reply to being teased. He doesn’t shift in his position, languidly draped over three quarters of the king sized bed. Locus supposes Felix fancies himself like a lion when really he’s more like a common house cat. He’s far too satisfied with the day’s events to pose any threat at the moment.

            Locus picks up a rifle that has somehow ended up on the floor. It belongs to Felix of course. Locus had already stored all his weapons away properly as soon as they’d gotten back while ignoring Felix whining at him from the bed. He answers without even looking up at Felix, “don’t bother, I’ve already written you out of my will.” It’s a joke of course; he’d never had Felix in his will to begin with.

            “You asshole,” Felix mumbles, half amused despite himself. He lapses into silence for a moment before continuing to talk, answering the question Locus hadn’t asked, “I was thinking about that bird. You know; that vulture we saw.” He rolled onto his back and took his rifle out of Locus’ hands, examining it idly. Locus still asks him nothing, because he knows Felix will elaborate unprompted anyway. It wasn’t hard to get Felix to talk; it was getting him to be quiet that was always difficult.

            “This one summer when I was a kid,” he starts, “we rented a place out in the bumfucking boonies. I saw a vulture get hit by a car right outside our house. And wouldn’t you know it, 40 minutes later there’s a bunch more of those ugly fuckers on the side of the road eating it.” Felix turns the rifle in his hands, looking at it with an expression that suggests it has some grand importance. Locus watches him intently. It’s rare that Felix speaks of his childhood, his _actual_ childhood of suburban mediocrity. He favors a more trumped up version with drugs, gang violence, and abuse. Normal is boring, and Felix hates boring. “I grabbed my appa’s hunting rifle and I shot at them. Only hit one though, and the recoil dislocated my arm. Pretty shitty, huh?” he asks, finally looking back up at Locus.

            Locus returns his gaze, tucking a strand of still damp dark hair behind his ear. “How old were you?” he asks. He doesn’t ask why because he knows already. Felix sole purpose in life is to end lives. It’s why he was born without any empathy or guilt. There’s a technical term for what Felix is, but the one time he’d dared to use it in anger, Felix had nearly torn his throat out. _Don’t fucking label me,_ he’d hissed as his hands had clamped down on Locus’s neck. Locus knows better than to pity Felix.

            “Oh, I was just an innocent little eight year old,” Felix quipped, before letting out a sharp laugh. “But so I was thinking, vultures will eat vultures and people, and some people eat vultures, but if you tried to go out and eat another person you’d get thrown in the nuthouse.”

            Felix had just taken the conversation in a direction Locus couldn’t possibly have expected. Though that doesn’t mean he’s surprised. Locus doesn’t reply immediately, considering Felix’s statement carefully. He settles on the dismissive, “if you are considering pursuing even further levels of depravity than what you normally sink to I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

            For his response Locus receives a soft kick to his back. Felix huffs, “I’m just curious. Don’t try to tell me you’ve never even considered the idea.” He rolls over again, dropping his rifle on the floor to Locus’s immense displeasure.

            “I’m not an animal, Felix. So no, I have not,” Locus replies curtly as he gets up to put the rifle away with the rest of their equipment. “As I said, I don’t care what you do,” Locus adds as he turns back toward the bed to see Felix grinning at him, as if accepting a challenge.

            Locus regards him with a raised eyebrow and Felix props himself up before speaking, “I’m gonna try it, next time. Just to see.” Felix seems excited at the concept of his future cannibalism and Locus ignores the shiver that sends down his spine.

 

            “It is not necessary for you to go about this in such a dramatic manner,” Locus states in an irritated tone a week later after they’d routed an insurgent camp on a tiny planet Felix had already forgotten the name of.

            Felix is again perched atop his target, but this time with his knife held in bloodied hands. He pauses a moment to look up at the large mercenary in grey and green pacing a meter away, and he grins with the same grin he uses to woo people he wants to fuck in bars. “Aw come on Locus, don’t you know the saying go big or go home?” He knows Locus gets irritated every time Felix makes him wait after a mission with his various whims, but really that’s the greatest encouragement the man could offer him. Felix applies pressure, and the dead man’s exposed rib bones break off with a satisfying crack.

            Locus doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but then again, he never is, “we don’t have all day, Felix.” Felix swears Locus lectures him more than his own mother ever had. Though, maybe he would have turned out better if that weren’t the case.

            “Yeah, yeah,” he replies with no real conviction as he digs into the chest cavity with his knife to cut out the heart. When he pulls it out, he looks up at Locus who just shakes his head as if he can’t believe Felix is determined to eat it. But that just gives Felix the drive he needs to bite down on the organ still warm in his hands.

            He isn’t sure what he expected a human heart to taste like, but he spits it out an instant later. When he hears a deep sound that he recognizes as Locus’s laugh, he throws the rest of the heart at him. “You shut the fuck up!” he curses, making a sour face.

            The piece of flesh bounces off Locus’s helmet ineffectually, landing on the ground in front of him with a disgusting wet noise. But at least it left a bloody mark that the sedate man would have to clean off later. Locus steps on it in a deliberate movement before closing the gap between them. “Are you satisfied now?” he asks, his tone level but Felix suspects there's a smirk on his face.

            He stares angrily at the hole he’s torn in the corpse beneath him before climbing to his feet, “I need a drink. Locus, take me to the nearest bar.”

            “Don’t sulk, Felix,” Locus replies, though Felix could tell he was amused by his failed attempt at cannibalism. Felix steps up to Locus, looking up at the featureless helmet before smearing his bloody hands across the faceplate until Locus grabs his wrists to make him stop. “Stop that. You’re disgusting,” he says in the same tone he always does.

            Felix smiles that sweet smile that has been the last sight of so many people, “I know.”


End file.
